You Are Me
by Alvar Cunnings
Summary: The reign of the Third Reich has hurt many and left lasting scars on many, but none more than on the nation on Germany itself. What chaos did the man who represents it all feel coursing though his blood? M for violence, controversial material and trigger warning.


That's how we ruled the world and let is set to fire, how we destroyed everything in our paths and killed them all. Why? Because we had to, it was necessary and true and right and everything was beautifully splashed in blood and the screams echoed off the mountains like giants. It was beautiful glorious and horrifying and i can never tell if these recollections are dreams or nightmares but they all blur together into a symphony of colors and cries of salvation and it's as if I am the god of the world with all the beings on the planet scrambling to me for my mercy with their hands raised and shaking and knobby emaciated knees on the ground as they slump over in defeat when I don't answer. Sometimes I laugh and sometimes I cry but every time I feel nothing but a cool numbness that makes my toes curl in the way of sexual pleasures and that make me frown. It's all quiet where I am now, like I am deaf though I am sure as the ground rumbles that there are deafening catastrophes exploding throughout this plane of existence and I smile and chuckle until the laughing causes me to double over and fall to my own scarred knees just as the infidels of this world have done for me for days, years, and centuries. I am now sick with my own power and I can feel it condense in my chest like heavy fog that obscures my vision. I almost forget you, and damn the world if I did not try. I did. But the trees and birds and smiling faces and songs all screamed your name and burned you smiling face into my mind and drove me crazy with a passion I never wanted to place and it drove me to destroy those things, I helped that man in his agenda like a well-trained hound of Hell and kept my jaw clenched tight as my fists came down again and again and again and again until I lost count of the sheer number of lives I took on my own. Each time I was killing you, attempting to rip your face from my heart along with those sweet touches and words that you used to whisper to me when we huddled for warmth. I won't have them again and I don't want to remember them ever again. They make me sick with those ugly emotions of guilt and regret that turn the demon that has over-taken me onto its back, wielding its weak belly to the world. I hate it, I hate you. I hate you because I know I love you more than myself and my people and it makes me scream so loud that these people quake from just the distant sound of it. That's why I relish the mindless killing and screams and blood, because they distract me from the confusion of what I am doing. I haven't had a rational thought since the swastika first took its place in my arm and the thoughts and demons of my people came onto me like an endless night. Everything here is evil and drenched in so much sin the devil would find this land to be gaudy and over decorated with it. It makes me sick as much as I feed off of it. No matter what I do, though, you are still there. At night your form moves into my quarters like mist and touches me, begging, "Stop, stop and come with me darling." But I never do, instead I crumple to your ghostly feet and cry, drenching everything in my own blood as I attempt to end myself the way I have ended so many others, but to no avail. We aren't creatures of death, but of immortality until all that makes us up are turned to ash and bone. No one stops me anymore, but lets the blood flow like rivers until the healing of my body turns the canals to drought. I want you to hate me, but I know you never will, even as that form watches me while I writhe and scream, you hold pity and so much love in your luminous eyes I feel as if I am going to be compressed until I die. There is a building pressure and I know the end is near as more of my person is lost and destroyed. I won't be forgiven but I never expected to. Then he ended himself and I knew it was over, I was enraged with jealousy and hate, for I cannot end my own suffering. I went outside.

It was so quiet that my head ached from its ceaseless ringing. I dropped to me knees as I saw the smoke that still arose from my once great capital. Almost as if I was shifting-shape, I felt myself sink down, down from that beast into the man I once was. I am as close to human as I have been in so many years. I retch on the ground and don't pick myself up as I fall to my face in the dirt and my own vomit. I am content to lie there forever, never moving or speaking. It is nightfall before there are sounds; footsteps, that I am sure would have been soft had it not been for the way the echoed in my ears like fireworks in a cavern. I hoped it was someone to kill me; to hurt me and punish me for living. But as they neared my head and stopped, I looked up. I didn't want to see you, but you were there. Oh, how I wished for blindness in that moment, for the both of us. You would not have to cast your beautiful, honeyed eyes on my body and I would not have to see them darken in disgust. However, you did none of those things, not one word left your mouth as you dropped down to my head, lifted it, and set it in your warm lap. I don't believe I have ever cried so much or so loudly as I did then. But you said nothing and ran your smooth, pure skin through my tattered and scared sin and I begged for it all to stop, yet you continued and I felt my entire being spinning down until I was sure the only thing that held me up were your eyes. This is why I panic at every moment you leave me, why my heart beats so fast when I can't see you. I t is because when I was destroyed and became nothing, you became my everything. I am endowed to you the way a debtor is to his master, for without your very existence I would be dead and nothing and would collapse at the joints like some kind of falling building, and crash downwards forever. You are so much stronger than I have ever been, or ever will be. I may be able to move tons with my arms you can move the world with that smile of yours. The same one I have been using for years as treatment to my mental wounds. And now there aren't enough sweet words in existence that I can say to you, but I say as many as I can in every language that I have ever studied just for you. I make sure that I smile for you despite my embarrassment because it is all I can give. You tell me that I am good to you, and I always shake my head and bury my heavy head into your soft neck, because it is you that I take that good from. And for this I am forever thankful, my dear and precious, Feliciano.


End file.
